Companion dialog page for the Chapter Five narrative.
The dining room overlooks a golf course that appears untouched by the arguments consuming the rest of the state.
Coffee arrives. Newspapers are folded. Phones remain face down until someone reaches for one.
The wives gather around a table that has hosted a thousand conversations and remembered none of them.
Political Wife #1:
Did you see the story this morning?
Political Wife #2:
Which one?
Political Wife #1:
Exactly.
(light laughter)
Political Wife #3:
There are three different versions depending on where you read it.
Wife:
People used to argue over opinions.
Political Wife #2:
Now they argue over facts.
Political Wife #1:
No. They argue over which facts are allowed in the room.
(a pause)
Political Wife #3:
Schools this week.
Political Wife #2:
Libraries last week. Don't get me started over that ridiculousness.
Political Wife #1:
Something else next week. Probably more library issues.
Group:
(quiet laughter together)
Wife:
And nobody seems less angry afterward.
Political Wife #2:
Anger has become an industry and so has hate, Dear Lord, God, and so has hate.
The legislative building carries a different energy than it had a year ago.
Everyone appears busy.
Everyone appears concerned.
Nobody appears surprised.
Colleague:
You see those numbers?
Husband:
Which ones?
Colleague:
The polling.
Husband:
Depends who paid for it.
Colleague:
Fair.
(continuing down the hallway)
Colleague:
Feels like the public changes positions every three days now.
Husband:
No.
Colleague:
No?
Husband:
The public stays where it always was.
Colleague:
Then what changes?
Husband:
Whatever is loudest.
(a silence follows)
Colleague:
You used to sound more optimistic.
Husband:
I used to think attention lasted longer.
The ballroom is empty except for staff, volunteers, and a handful of organizers discussing an upcoming charity gala.
Tables are being measured.
Names are being arranged.
Seating charts are being debated with surprising seriousness.
Committee Chair:
The entertainer wants a separate entrance.
Volunteer:
Of course they do.
Committee Chair:
The donor wants the table moved closer to the stage.
Volunteer:
Of course they do.
Political Wife #1:
The television personality confirmed attendance.
Political Wife #2:
That will bring cameras.
Wife:
It always does.
Political Wife #1:
Funny thing.
Wife:
What?
Political Wife #1:
Five years ago nobody outside this county would have cared about any of this. Now, we have a television personality to cater to?
Political Wife #2:
Now everybody is watching everybody. It is so harmful and it is disguised as 'community concern' or what were those called? 'Citizen.... police?' seminars they held somewhere in Alabama?
Wife:
No.
Political Wife #2:
No?
Wife:
Everybody thinks they are being watched.
That is different.
The children remain blissfully unaware of the atmosphere surrounding them.
The kitchen table has become one of the few places where the world still arrives slowly.
Child #1:
Coach says we might make the playoffs.
Child #2:
Only if you stop missing practice.
Child #1:
I missed one.
Child #2:
Three.
(laughter)
Wife:
How was school?
Child #2:
Everybody was arguing.
Wife:
About what?
Child #2:
Nobody really knew.
The internet.
Something on television.
Somebody's parents said something.
Child #1:
That sounds right.
The Husband looks down at his plate.
For a moment, nobody speaks.
Then the children continue as if nothing happened.
The cicadas have returned.
The neighborhood appears peaceful from a distance.
The Husband sits on the porch steps.
The Wife remains in the chair beside him.
Neither seems eager to go inside.
Husband:
People do not know what to believe anymore.
Wife:
Maybe. I have not heard cicadas in years. Nor have I heard any grasshoppers. I am so thankful for the birds in the morning, again.
Husband:
Maybe? Yes, and I noticed that, too.
Wife:
Maybe they know exactly what they believe.
Husband:
Then why does everything feel so uncertain?
Wife:
Because belief is not the same thing as trust. The foundations are being removed and corrupted.
(the breeze shifts)
Husband:
You think trust is gone?
Wife:
No. I mean not completely.
I think people are becoming more careful about where they place it.
(a long silence)
Husband:
You talking about the country?
Wife:
I was talking about the country, the house, and the beautiful sounds around us morning and night.
(the Husband turns toward her)
Wife:
Now I am talking about the house.
The cicadas continue.
Neither moves.
Neither asks the question that both already understand.